Set Dressing
by femalegamer
Summary: There are other stories going on in the background of each Origin. Climb inside the head of Jowan as he meets Lily for the first time.


After writing this, I have two choices I'm considering - writing a serious of shorts on background characters like Jowan, or possibly writing a second chapter that takes up to the beginning of the game, with Jowan deciding to "dabble". Or both, but it seems clumsy to put both in this post, and I _like_ the name Set Dressing for this. Hrm.

* * *

He was worried, terribly worried. He has never been, well, _good_ at magic. And he had started to notice that there aren't many other apprentices that are older than he is.

They've almost all gone through their Harrowing, and become full magi. Unless they died. That's always an option. Or gone insane. That one is just a rumor, because all the clues pointed to a go-insane-then-get-killed chain of events. The whole tower was solid stone, but sometimes you could still hear screaming during a Harrowing.

Particularly when someone transforms into a keen-eared beast and sits on top of a bookcase with said ears pressed against a seam in the stones of the ceiling/floor. Not that he was the one who did it – who knew what would happen if he tried shapeshifting? Probably turn into a worm. That's all he was – a nervous, sniveling worm.

Neria had been giving him secret, extra lessons during their rare free moments. She was three years younger than he was, but she was still light years ahead of him. She was going to have her Harrowing any time now, they whispered, wondering why they hadn't already gone ahead and done it. (That's where this train of thoughts had started.) No one knew what you went through, but the confident, powerful, talented, good-hearted, disciplined elf girl had it in spades. She was more perfect than perfect.

Jowan tried to dislike her every now and then, but what was the point? She would just try to fix whatever was wrong, go on being sweet and friendly and just... _nice_. And he'd been her friend since she arrived and charmed him, five years old to his eight. She had been crying for her "mamaw", but they didn't coddle anyone here in the tower. She would have been left to cry herself to sleep, but he and an older girl named Morva had gotten her calmed down, found her a clumsily sewn toy to wrap herself around.

Morva had died during her Harrowing, eight years ago. She had left him a book of stories that she'd been given as a gift from one of their teachers, as a reward.

He knew he should try to hold his emotions in check, but it was so _tough_..! During practice, they zapped each other, and it hurt! They summoned _things_, which were frightening. And the Templars, looming, making him jump.

He sighed. It was clear he wasn't getting to sleep any time soon. He climbed out of his bunk and pulled on his robes by the light of the night candle. His lit his own and quietly slipped into the hallway. The library. He could sit in the light without disturbing anyone and read until he was too exhausted to worry…

He opened the door to the library and frowned, eyes squinted, trying to place the sound he heard. He peeked around the end of the shelves and…

With a yelp he dropped his candle. The two apprentices leaped up from their passionate embrace, trying to cover themselves. He stooped to pick up his candle, keeping his head down, apologizing quickly and awkwardly and too much.

Much like he did everything else.

So much for that idea, then. At least he hadn't set anything on fire, though it wasn't for lack of trying. Where else…?

Ah. Of course! The chapel! No one would be there at this hour. He snagged a book from a bottom shelf on his way out, without evening checking the title; he just needed to get out of here before he opened his mouth again.

"I'm going now! Sorry to interrupt!" he said perhaps a little too loudly before pulling the door to with a whomp. He leaned against the wall with a sigh and peeled solidified wax from his hand with a wince. What possible use was hair on your knuckles, anyway?

With a sigh of relief he slipped into the chapel. Not as well lit as the library, but it would do. He sat on a hard stone bench and opened the book to a cloud of mold and dust. Apparently he hadn't picked a popular tome. He squinted at the scratchy handwriting on the brown paper and tilted his head as if a different angle might help.

After a few minutes of that, he put both feet on the floor and closed the book on the bench next to him. He couldn't even pick a good book. It seemed to be some old, dead mage's journal, full of misspellings and stains.

Well, he was in a chapel. Maybe he should try praying.

"Maker, this is Jowan… I, um, I'm worried about my Harrowing.. and…"He trailed off, not sure what else to say. Fortunately, he didn't need to think very hard as someone slid onto the bench next to him.

"Aaah! Andraste's fiery remains! You scared me!" The dark haired girl covered her giggle with her hand. Her white nightgown was almost glowing where it could be seen at the opening of her robe. He didn't remember seeing her before.

"You should have seen your face!" She stopped giggling to speak, but a smile still stretched across her lovely face. "I'm so glad to see someone else couldn't sleep, though! I'm Lily."

She held out her hand and he took it, shifting his grip to take her fingers, like a gentleman to a lady. A shiver ran through him all the way down his spine and to the tips of his toes.


End file.
